


Tevinter Traffic

by pocketwatchangora



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Police, Forced Prostitution, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Prostitution, Protective Iron Bull, Seizures, Sick Character, Young Dorian Pavus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 18:38:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15297591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketwatchangora/pseuds/pocketwatchangora
Summary: When two Tevinter kids get brought in with no ID or visa information, Detective Iron Bull and his team must figure out how the hell they got there and what they were doing for money....





	Tevinter Traffic

Detective Iron Bull sat at his desk, typing up a report (always an arduous task due to his huge hands and the precinct’s refusal to buy him a custom keyboard, then complain when his reports are riddled with weird spelling mistakes. Why couldn’t they just let him handwrite his reports like the old days? He understood pens and paper just fine) when his friend and colleague, Detective Varric Tethras, sidled up to him.

“Hey, Tiny, how’s life?” he asked. Bull looked at him suspiciously.

“What do you want?” he asked. Varric chuckled.

“Can’t a man greet his good buddy in the morning without having an ulterior motive?”

“Depends on the man.” Bull quipped with a smirk. Varric laughed again, patting the qunari’s massive shoulder.

“Now that you mention it, I did wanna ask you something...” he said, like he'd just thought of it, but stopped, straightening up and cleared his throat. “Seeker Pentaghast.” he greeted their stiffly. Bull looked up to find their captain, Cassandra, glaring at the both of them. “You look lovely today.”

“Care to explain why you are here distracting Detective Bull instead of writing your own numerous reports, Varric?” she asked.

“I was just asking Bull if he could ask his buddy from 6-8 to translate for us. We bought in a couple of street kids from Tevinter and they’re not talking.” Bull frowned, that wasn’t what he was expecting.

“Krem?” he asked and Varric looked at him with the expression universally accepted as meaning ‘dude, don’t blow this for me'.

“I see you explained it in great detail...” Cassandra said sarcastically, crossing her arms.

“Does he speak Tevene?” Varric asked Bull, ignoring Cassandra.

“Sure, they all do up there. Most people know Common too, though.”

“Well, if they do, they’re not letting on.” He said with a sigh. “Permission to bring a translator in, Seeker?” he asked Cassandra, blatantly using her honorific, and his nickname for her, to butter her up. She rolled her eyes but nodded.

“Fine, just do your reports by tomorrow morning.” She said, then looked at Bull. “If your friend agrees, he will be paid translator wages while he is here, as well as his 6-8 salary.” Bull chuckled.

“In that case, he'll definitely agree. I’ll give him a call.” She nodded and walked off, Varric grinning at Bull.

“Thanks, buddy.”

“Was that actually what you were going to ask?” he asked. Varric chuckled.

“Eventually. I actually wanted to ask about that redhead who just transferred to Vice.”

“Can’t say I’ve noticed anyone of that description.” He said, smirking slyly, making Varric laugh loudly.

“Bullshit!” He cried.

“Varric.” Cassandra called from across the room, Varric raising his hands in apology.

“I'll call Krem.” Bull said, smirking. “What did these kids do anyway?” he asked.

“We're not sure, maybe nothing. But they’re definitely here illegally: no passports, no ID, won’t give their names. We picked them up for sleeping in the mall. Apparently they’re always there and the businesses wanted them gone. Thought we’d bring them in, at least give them a hot meal.”

“Escaped slaves, maybe?” Bull offered. Varric shrugged.

“Not sure, they look noble to me, at least one does. Maker knows, that country is fucked up.” Bull nodded darkly, picking up his phone and speed-dialling his best friend, Krem.

“Hi, Chief, what’s up?” his soporati accented friend greeted him.

“Hey, Krem, got a job for ya. Can you get over here?”

“Now?”

“As soon as you can. Varric’s got some Tevinter kids and they’re not talking. He’s hoping Tevene will help. Cassandra said you’ll be paid as a translator.” His friend chuckled.

“Yeah, alright, you twisted my arm. I’ll be over in...twenty?”

“Great, thanks, Krem. See you in a bit then.”

“Bye, Chief.” He said and Bull hung up. He finished his report and, getting a text from Krem, went down to meet him. They signed him in as a translator, he was pleased by his temporary ID badge, and they headed up. Bull noticed the greasy paper bag Krem was holding.

“Did you bring me a treat?” he asked, smirking. Krem rolled his eyes.

“Not unless you enjoy spicy seaweed buns.” Bull looked interested so Krem elaborated. “Bought them for the kids, they’re really hard to get down here but I know a place. They're a classic snack in Tevinter, like sweet rolls are down here. Maybe a taste of home will help them relax.”

“Huh, good thinking, Krempuff. You’ll make a detective yet.” He teased. Krem had been a detective longer than Bull had. The older of the two had been a beat cop for way too long because his CO at the time was super racist and constantly accused him of spying, but at least he wasn't transphobic; Krem got a promotion no problem.

“Very funny, Chief.” He said sardonically, smirking. They found Varric in the bullpen, talking to Hawke from Major Crimes.

“Ahh, Krem, nice to see you!” the dwarf greeted him warmly, shaking his hand, the young man smiling back.

“What brings you here, Hawke?” Bull asked once everyone was greeted and introduced.

“Hawke here seems to think our lil kiddies are victims of a sex trafficking ring. They kidnap and sell Magisters' kids and fetch a pretty penny.”

“Well, shit. You think they’ve escaped?” Bull asked. Hawke shrugged, half sitting on Varric's desk.

“Maybe, or they’re just out getting business. Either way, they might know where the fuckers running it can be found. I hope you can get through to them.” Krem nodded.

“I’ll do what I can. How old are they?”

“Early twenties, maybe younger. One seems like he’s pretty sick, the other just keeps shouting at us in Tevene.”

“Sounds like a Magister’s whelp.” Krem said. “Will they be together, or separate?”

“Together, the mouthy one refuses to leave the sick one's side. If you can get them to accept medical assistance, it might be our way in.” Krem nodded his understanding.

“Bull, you wanna take point on this? You and Krem understand Tevinter better than me.” Varric offered.

“You sure? They’re your arrests.”

“Ahh, if they’re really sex slaves, they won’t be mine much longer anyway – you might as well go in with a stronger understanding of what they’re about. I’ll be in the booth – redhead from Vice left for lunch.” He said with a chuckle, Hawke's eyes rolling dramatically.

“Well, ok. Ready?” Bull asked Krem, who nodded. He didn’t look very Tevinter today, not that he ever did; wearing a dark blue shirt, black tie, jeans and a leather jacket, but his accent made it clear. Varric sent them to Interview Room 2, Bull opening the door and letting them both in.

The two young men were sat on the other side of the table, one dark copper skinned, the other considerably paler but still tan. They both had black hair, the pale one had a buzz-cut, his hair coarse and tightly curled even less than an inch long while the other wore his longer in a fashionable, albeit slightly dishevelled, faux-hawk. Bull was struck, though he didn’t show it, by how beautiful this boy was. He was very slender but he seemed toned and strong despite clear signs of prolonged hunger in them both. His hair looked soft and silky smooth, and his eyes were pale silver or gold depending on the light and looked up at Bull defiantly as he entered. Then they shifted to Krem, clearly getting a good read of them both. The other, good-looking in his own right, tall and willowy with a handsome face, was clearly feeling unwell, his brow sweaty and feverish, eyes sunken and shadowed.

“Hello, my name is Detective Iron Bull. This is my friend, Cremisius Aclassi.” Bull said as they took their seats.

“ _Call me Krem_.” Krem said in Tevene with an easy smile. Both boys looked up then, their expressions making their surprise very clear.

" _Y_ _ou’re Tevinter_?” the sick one asked in a shaky voice, eyes wide and innocent. Krem nodded.

 _“Soporati?”_ the other boy asked, regarding him with suspicion.

 _“That’s right. And you're nobles, right? You don’t look or sound soporati to me.”_ They glanced at each other, the copper-skinned one's hands twitching on the table. They weren't cuffed, Bul noticed warily.

 _“Why are we being held here? We’ve done nothing wrong.”_ He said angrily, gesturing to the metal walls around them. Krem translated this to Bull, who sighed.

“Tell them they’re here to answer our questions, which they should do unless they want us to look into how they got here in the first place.” He said, the copper-skinned boy glaring at him the whole time, which he returned. Krem relayed this back in Tevene. The boy let out a scoff and muttered something that made Krem chuckle. “What? What did he say?” Bull asked, getting increasingly irritated.

“He said ‘fuck you’, Chief.” He said, grinning. Bull growled, crossing his huge arms.

“Let’s start with their names, huh? Can’t just call you ‘sick kid' and ‘pretty boy’.” He said and Krem translated word for word. The latter straightened slightly at the compliment, smirking. Then the sick one muttered something to his friend, who looked at him with a slightly sad expression.

“What was that?” Bull asked.

“He said he’s not sick, just hungry.” Krem said, doubtfully. Bull huffed, gesturing to the bag Krem was holding under the table.

“Time for your seaweed balls, buddy.” He said. Krem nodded, placing it on the table. Both boys looked at it, hunger clear in their longing expressions, though the darker one seemed to try to restrain himself. Krem told them what it was and they both licked their dry lips, the sick one’s eyes fixed on the bag, his friend watched them suspiciously.

“If we give you these, you have to answer our questions.” Bull said, Krem translating as he opened the bag slowly, carefully releasing the spicy, garlicky aroma to further pique their interest. They were both so fixated that Krem had to repeat the condition. The pretty one glared, crossing his arms defiantly, but when he looked at his friend's pallid, fevered complexion, his resolve crumbled. He hissed something and Krem smiled.

“He said ‘fine, just hand them over’.” He said, and pushed the bag across the table. The two young men fell on the bag like a pack of wolves, each taking a red-and-green-swirled bun and taking hungry, desperate bites, as if fearing they’d be taken away at any moment. They both made the noises you make when something tastes truly incredible, devouring the food.

“Tell them to slow down before they choke.” Bull growled, feeling more like he was babysitting than conducting a police interview. Krem did and they both glared at them, continuing to eat savagely. “Ask when the last time they ate was.” Bull was familiar with this level of hunger, knew it had to have been at least a few days. When Krem asked, they just shrugged. Then the copper-skinned boy spoke, Krem chuckling again.

“They want soda.” Bull sighed deeply.

“Fine. What flavour?” Krem asked, and the boys discussed a moment before the pretty one replied.

“Grape for pretty boy, lemon for sick kid.” Bull sighed, standing up.

“’Hungry kid’, you mean?” Looking at how very sick the kid looked, even as he devoured another bun, Krem shook his head.

“Don’t think so,  Chief.”

“Well, keep ‘em talking, see what you can find out. I’ll be back in a sec.” He said and left.

He had to go to two different vending machines on opposite sides of the building to get the requested flavours, and as he was returning, he saw Cassandra and one of the department medics rushing into Interview Room 2. He swore, suddenly worried for Krem, and followed. The first thing he saw when he went in was Krem, standing against the wall and watching as the medic saw to the sick Tevinter kid, who seemed to be having some kind of fit on the floor. The pretty one was being held back against the wall by Cassandra, fighting against her as he shouted in Tevene.

“He’s saying you need to hold his head still and give him something to bite on.” Krem translated, the medic looking at him and nodded, pulling a rubber bite guard from her pack and placed it between the boy's teeth, every muscle in his body tensed as his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Bull, get this one out.” Cassandra ordered, holding the other boy against the wall as he continued to fight her, clearly worried about his friend and wanting to be near him. Bull nodded and grabbed the kid around the waist, lifting him bodily as he struggled against him, swearing at him in Tevene. Krem left with Bull too, telling the medic that the sick boy's name was Felix, the name the pretty one had been saying when he started to fit.

Bull carried the struggling youth out into the bullpen, where a lot of people were standing and watching, and into Cassandra's empty office, locking the door once Krem was inside too. The boy was hissing curses and insults in Tevene, Krem helpfully translating each one, much to Bull’s annoyance.

He forced the boy into a chair, telling him to shut up, but the boy sprang up as if to attack, only to go very pale and sway dizzily. Bull sat him back down with hardly a push at all, sighing.

“You haven’t eaten enough for this, pretty boy.” He said almost softly. The boy glared at him, but didn’t say anymore, getting his breath back and curling up slightly in the chair. “Your friend's gonna be ok, it was just a little seizure. I’m guessing it happens a lot?” he asked softly, but before Krem could translate, the boy was nodding. “Wait, you understand me?” Bull asked, frowning. The boy looked surprised, then defiant, before deciding not to continue the charade and sighed.

“Yes, of course. I speak 8 languages...” He said in a haughty, noble voice, his accent much more refined than Krem's.

“Well, shit, why were you pretending you couldn't?”

“People are very forthcoming if they don’t think anyone is listening. I was hoping it would be useful.”

“Was it?” the boy rolled his eyes.

“Aside from learning one of the officers who arrested us has trouble getting it up with his girlfriend, no, not particularly.” He said, making Bull bark a laugh.

“No shit, what was his name?”

“Erikson, I believe. Large fellow, blond hair.”

“Yeah...yeah, I know him – kind of an asshole.” The boy nodded his agreement, making Bull chuckle. “Thanks for the intel. Now, we know your friend's name, what about yours?” he asked. The boy looked defiant again, clearly not inclined to reveal anything about himself, but then he sighed wearily.

“Dorian of House Pavus, son of Magister Halward Pavus, pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He said in a bored tone.

“Likewise, Dorian. Now, do you know what is wrong with Felix?” Dorian looked at him for a moment, jaw hardening.

“I don't. He’s been like this since...” He trailed off, looking down and around the office, anywhere but at Bull.

“Since what? Since you left Tevinter? Since something happened?” Bull asked, frowning. It was abundantly clear there was a secret here, something troubling, Bull could see it in the kid's face.

“He has fits and can’t sleep. We were staying in the shopping centre to keep warm and so the air was as clean as it could be. We scrounged from rubbish bins for food, but we never stole anything.” He said firmly. Bull sighed, sitting down on another chair.

“I’m not accusing you of stealing, Dorian, I just want to know how you got here. No passports? No ID? Even if you weren’t nobles, that’s suspicious as hell. I’m not accusing you of anything but unless you want Immigration to come sniffing around, you need to give me something.” The kid looked worried then, glancing out the windows of the office as if checking for someone he didn’t want to see. Before either of them could speak further however, someone was knocking on the door. Dorian jumped, trying to see who it was, eyes showing his fear even as his face remained stoic.

“It's Varric.” Krem said and Bull nodded, patting the boy's leg reassuringly before getting up to answer the door.

“Hey, Tiny. How’s Kid 2?” the dwarf asked softly, glancing into the room.

“Talking, at least, and in Common no less.” Varric looked mildly surprised. “Is the other one alright?” the dwarf nodded.

“The ambulance is on its way. He passed out after the fit was over, the medic's sat with him in the interview room until they get here but she thinks he'll be ok. Cassandra sent me to ask if this one knows if he has any medication? Or a pre-existing condition or anything?” Bull sighed and shook his head.

“Kid says his buddy has been like that since something happened, dunno what yet but he won’t talk about it at all. I'm thinking some kind of trauma.” Varric frowned deeply, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the doorframe.

“We'll get a psyche eval then, maybe that'll help...” Bull nodded. “One more thing, uh...” he scratched his neck nervously before clearing his throat. “Someone mentioned Krem being Tevinter too and, uh, well, they suspect him of having something to do with the boy’s fit. They took those bun things for testing.”

“You’ve got to be fucking joking.” Krem growled, appearing beside Bull, anger in his eyes. Varric sighed, shaking his head gravely.

“Sorry, buddy, it’s fucking Giselle – she saw you were translating and she’s not letting it go.”

“They better get that shit tested fast, Varric.” Bull growled. The dwarf nodded.

“I handled it, don’t worry. I’ve got a buddy in the lab so I can rush it. For now, though, you and the boy are remanded in custody.” He spoke apologetically, an edge of anger too. Krem swore in Tevene. “So did the kid tell you anything?”

“Just his name: Dorian Pavus, son of some Magister. Hawke might be right, he’s scared.”

“Shit... You know this Magister, Krem?” the soporati man nodded.

“Yeah, he’s a big wig in the Magisterium. Far as I know, he’s only got one child so this must be him.” Varric looked pensive for moment before sighing.

“Well, if a Magister’s scion can live on the streets with no-one kicking up a fuss something must be going on. I’ll see if there’s been any news about his kid going missing. The medic said the sick one's name is Felix? Know who he could be?” he asked Krem, who shook his head.

“Not without a House. All my contacts in Tevinter are in the army, doubt they’ll be able to help. Hardly anyone knows Magisters by their first names, let alone their bloody brats.”

“Well, we can interview him at the hospital once he’s feeling up to it. If we know Dorian’s name he won’t need to hide who he is.” They both nodded.

“Good plan. Alright...for now, keep Krem and the kid in here. Cassandra is pissed about them blaming Krem for this shit so she’s happy for you guys to sit tight. Order some food too, it’s on the precinct. I'll come back when we know more.” He said, clearly pretty mad about the whole situation. Bull nodded, thanking his friend, and shut the door.

“Is Felix alright?” Dorian immediately asked, still trying to look out the blind-covered windows.

“He's going to hospital, he’ll be ok. You’re staying here with us.” thr gold/silver eyes met gunmetal grey with a glare.

“No, I want to be with Felix.”

“You will, kid, but not yet.” Dorian gave an annoyed sneer.

“Kindly stop calling me ‘kid’. I’m twenty-three years old, not some blubbering child.” He said hotly. Bull chuckled.

“Alright, big guy.” He amended, much to Dorian’s further aggravation.

“Infinitely worse, coming from a qunari...” He muttered. Bull shrugged, grinning.

“You asked for it, damn brat. Well, now that we're stuck here together...what would you like to do?”  

“Some wine would be lovely...” He said wistfully, sighing. Bull noticed a heaviness to his eyelids and stood up, going over to the leather couch at the far end of Cassandra’s office, and pulled out a pillow, sheet and blanket from the locker beside it. He draped the sheet over the main part of the couch, placed the pillow on one end, and returned to dump the blanket on Dorian’s lap.

“It's not wine but…” he gestured a huge hand towards the newly made bed. “Take a nap, kid, you’re safe here.” The young man looked at the blanket, then the makeshift bed, then up at Bull with an expression of reluctance. “I promise.” He added, more gently. Dorian looked over at the bed again, longingly, then nodded.

“Alright...” He accepted, but didn’t get up. He was glancing at the windows then at Bull, then down at the soft blanket in his hands, wringing the material anxiously.

“We're gonna stay in here but we'll keep it down.” Bull said, knowing the signs when someone was afraid to be alone. He’d been with Felix for so long, and out in the open too, that this prospect likely terrified him. He looked up with obvious relief in his eyes and nodded slowly. Bull smiled. “Night, big guy.” He said, smiling when he glared at him weakly, and offered him a hand to help him up. Dorian looked up at him for a moment, trying to decide whether or not he trusted him, and accepted the huge hand. Bull pulled him onto his feet, supporting him for a moment in case he went pale again, before releasing him gently. Dorian went over to the sofa, a little unsteady, and sat down, kicking his filthy, threadbare sneakers off his unsocked feet and lay down, pulling the blanket over himself. He was asleep almost instantly, tired eyes blinking slowly before shutting completely, and Bull was relieved, but mostly mad that the boy was so unaccustomed to the most basic of comforts.

Bull smiled at the kid, then looked back at Krem, who was texting.

“Messaging your girl?” he asked with a smirk. Krem didn’t look up, just frowned slightly.

“No, Skinner. She's bloody riding me about getting arrested...” He said absently, thumbs tapping faster than Bull could manage on a double sized keyboard with all 7 fingers. Skinner was Krem's partner over at the 6-8. Bull chuckled softly, mindful of the sleeper, and settled back in his chair to maybe take a nap of his own.


End file.
